Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa

Forgive me, Father/ Universe/ Insert Patriarchal Punishing Deity of Your Choice Here, for I have sinned.

You know I am on a budget. You know I am trying not to buy anything at all.

You know I am especially trying not to buy wool online given that we have the very lively postman who squashes my packages and shouts up our stairs ‘are you buying wool again? You’ve got enough wool!’ even though this opinion is based on the fact that I bought all that Stylecraft Special DK, and not only was it very, very cheap, but I have crocheted it all up into a blanket. And that sack of Ethical Twist from Kemps honestly cost practically nothing, and besides, you in your All Seeing-ness know that I split it with Mum.

You know, Father, that it is of no use my explaining that to the postman. Indeed, I think you and I might agree that it would make things worse.

Not only am I trying not to buy wool online, Father, but you who are omniscient know how I feel about certain aspects of knitting culture. I mean, I get that the first use of omniscience isn’t necessarily to be monitoring my thoughts on acrylic, but I believe there might have been something somewhere about every hair being numbered. You know I am a miserably utlilitarian Product Knitter. You know how I like things that are Rugged and Useful. You know my idea of hell is going on a ridiculous internet quest to get the type of wool which is so popular you can only get it by selling your soul to the chap we don’t talk about (sorry he got such a good write up in Paradise Lost, by the way. It seems Evil is just that tiny bit more glamorous. Who knew?).

And yet, Father, given all these variables which would in normal circumstances have led to my next yarn purchase being a small ball of cheap craft cotton for a single dishcloth some time in 2015, I find myself waiting for the arrival of two skeins of laceweight yarn purchased from the Posh Yarn Orphaned Skeins sale yesterday at 7pm.

I do not think, Father, that the fact that I only procured these skeins by having the internet-shopping skills of a seasoned pro, and a paypal trigger finger which would have devastated the Wild West, tips my moral balance. Nor do I think that, although I believe you might want to encourage people generally to have Hope, my apparent expectation of being able to produce, block, and wear successfully not one laceweight shawl, but two, is in any way admirable. Father, I think it is misguided. In fact, Father, I blame the hawthorn tincture and I feel this should be a lesson to others about Temperance.

I know you are annoyed with me, Father, for I sat on a knitting needle earlier and I snapped it in half and must now buy another. I know that was a Sign. Therefore I will do penance. I will not complain about things. I will clean the house and not just move things about. I will make offerings on ebay, bids starting at 99p, non smoking home and will combine postage.

And in return, Father, given that these are orphaned bargain skeins and therefore I could not choose the colour, please influence the nice lady at Posh Yarn, work on her inner being, and try to make sure she does not send me beige.

Yours in sad self-awareness,

Susie (look, I don't know how to end prayers. I'm a pagan. I'll go and light a candle and try and access the inner realms or something).